fandomhighdorms | The Salle, Sunday Morning

Some people were having a weird weekend. But not Isabelle. Isabelle's normal involved getting up early and heading down to the salle. Sword practice, today, just so she didn't get too rusty. It wasn't her preferred weapon, but that didn't mean she wasn't any good at it. Hodge and her parents wouldn't have allowed that.

There were even freshly burned Marks black on her skin. Agility, speed, precision. It showed in the way she handled herself and slashed and stabbed at the dummy. And by the look of determination on her face, she might as well have been slashing at an actual demon while she went through her drills, Hodge's old instructions running through her head as she did.

It was not the Institute, but it'd do.

[ooc: Open! I'm gonna need entertainment all through my travels today, someone provide that.]